Taking Blows
by fluffykitty12
Summary: After winning the gum-tape death match against Shingo, someone seeks out revenge against Takumi. When things go wrong and Takumi crashes, it's up to Bunta to get his son back on his feet, ready to race again.
1. The Challenge

Takumi hadn't planned on racing. He'd only taken the 86 to go and pick up Itsuki and watch the races.

It'd come as a total surprise when, as he and Itsuki waited eagerly at the corners, someone with a walkie-talkie shouted. "One of the Night Kids is issuing a challenge!"

The whole crowd instantly fell near-silent, everyone huddling around the radio carefully. The screaming of an engine could be heard as an engine powered onward, echoing eerily into the night.

"This is Kisumi Shoji, and I'm here for one reason and one reason only. Takumi- I'll race you into the ground for what you did to my brother."

Instantly, every person was turned to stare at Takumi in awe.

"He's challenging you, Takumi!" Someone shouted.

"Huh?" Takumi blinked, puzzled. "What does he want with me?"

"He's Shingo's younger brother, Takumi- Shingo broke his arm pretty badly during your gum-tape death match, and apparently Kisumi is pretty pissed." Itsuki said.

Takumi paused, frowning. "I didn't do anything to Shingo. He's the one who nudged _me_ and nearly killed me- I could've hit him right back and done the same, but I didn't. Shingo spun out on his own- he pushed his car too far beyond his limits. It's that simple."

Itsuki stared for a moment- as always, Takumi's calmness was slightly daunting. "Yeah, well try explaining that to Kisumi!"

Takumi shrugged, heading over to where he parked the 86. "Alright. I will, I guess."

"Dude, wait! I was being sarcastic, dammit, Kisumi won't listen to a word you have to say!"

Takumi seemed unbothered by this. "It's his fault if he doesn't want to listen to the truth." Was all he said, before the door of the 86 was closing behind him, the headlights flaring to life as he drifted flawlessly onto the road, making his way around a corner with grace and skill before drifting out of sight.

Itsuki stared after him, looking wary. "I hope you know what you're doing, Takumi."

* * *

Rysouke and his brother exchanged glances from where they stood among the throng of people on the corner directly before the 5 hairpin turns, each looking concerned.

"You don't think he'll actually do it, do you?" Keisuke asked his brother uncertainly form where he stood, hands in the pockets of his black hoodie. "I mean, sure, Takumi could probably beat him, but why take a challenge from such an arrogant bastard?"

Rysouke frowned pointedly. "While Kisumi isn't as skilled as Shingo, he makes up for it in recklessness and bloodlust. Shingo plays dirty, but Kisumi is known for all out forcing his opponents to crash…."

Keisuke paled at the news. "Seriously!? Then Takumi would be an idiot to race him! Even a driver as good as Takumi couldn't handle someone purposely crashing into him on the corners! I mean, being bumped by Shingo is one thing, but actually using your car to push someone to crash- that's another entirely!"

Ryosouke hummed, nodding. "Let's hope he doesn't accept the challenge- or better yet, ignores it entirely. Nothing good can come from a race with Kisumi."

* * *

Iketani looked up, sweat beaded on his face as he heard the 86 making its way up the hill.

Kisumi leaned on the hood of his black 32, scowling down the hill…. He had the same jawline and floppy black bangs of his brother, Shingo, however, his expression held malice and the slope of his brows and burning in his eyes revealed he truly was there to get revenge for his brother's defeat.

The 86 drifted around the corner, headlights piercing the darkness and blinding everyone for a moment, before drifting off the road at the last second, sliding into park.

Takumi emerged a moment later, the door shutting heavily behind him. His feet make soft sounds as he stepped through the grass, and crunched over the gravel that was the gutter alongside the road, before scraping across the asphalt as he made his way over to Kisumi.

Iketani stepped forward from where he sat beside his S13, eyes shut, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. "Hey! Takumi! Just the guy we were wanting to see! We were just about to start the races, since it's ten and all, when Kisumi showed up wanting to…um… battle you."

Kisumi's smoldering gaze never left Takumi, who looked over at the teen neutrally.

"So, uh, you gonna do it?" Iketani looked nervous- Takumi refusing the challenge could cause problems, and if Kisumi refused to move his car and allow the other races to start, it would be humiliating to the Speed Stars, to be barred from their own course….

Takumi ignored Iketani, instead striding over towards Kisumi. He paused when he was five feet from the teen, hands in his pockets, expression neutral.

"I didn't cause your brother's crash." He said calmly.

"Like hell you didn't!" Kisumi shouted, hands clenching into fists. "His car is smashed to hell, arm's busted, and it's _your_ damn fault!"

"I never touched your brother's car. He took a corner too fast and spun out- that's all there is to it." Takumi said simply.

"Liar!" Kisumi stepped forward, grabbing ahold of the collar of Takumi's shirt. "First you cause my brother's crash, then you have the audacity to insult his skill!?"

Takumi looked down at the hand holding his shirt, frowning. He reached up, quietly plucking the fingers from the fabric, and stepped back.

"I didn't cause your brother's crash. Go to the hospital and ask him yourself. I'm not going to race you." Takumi turned, his nikes scraping across the asphalt as he headed towards the 86.

"Coward!" Kisumi shouted. "You're nothing but a coward!"

Takumi shrugged, not looking back. "If you say so." He had reached the 86, now, and was planning on heading out.

"You don't want to race me because you know your shitty 86 won't be able to beat my 32!" Kisumi shouted.

Takumi froze, the driver's side door halfway open. Kisumi had struck a nerve, but he seemed oblivious with rage, simply barreling onward….

"My brother would've beaten you if you hadn't caused his crash! Everyone knows the 32 is superior to that piece of shit! So you caused his crash, rather than admit defeat! You and your car are fucking pathetic!"

Takumi whirled, eyes flashing with something that was rarely seen in the boy's eyes. "What did you just say about my car?" his voice was its normal volume, but somehow, his tone of voice betrayed the seriousness in his words.

"I said it's a piece of shit! It doesn't even belong to you- it belongs to your old man!"

Takumi's grip on his car door tightened, and he grit his teeth, letting go of the car door and whirling to face Kisumi entirely.

"You take that back! I might be a piece of shit to you, but this car was good enough to beat your brother, and you know it!"

"Put your money where your mouth is, you coward!"

Takumi fairly dove into the 86, slamming the door behind him and turning the key, grabbing the wheel and skidding, the scent of rubber burning in his hurry to get the 86 pulled up alongside the 32.

Self-righteous anger burned within his chest, and Kisumi hurried into his own car as well, grabbing the wheel and revving the engine.

Takumi narrowed his eyes. First, he was accused of doing something he'd had no part in. Shingo's crash had been due to his own carelessness- then, his car was insulted? The car that he'd learned to drive in, the car that faithfully carried him up Mount Akina every morning for the past five years.

He was going to beat Kisumi, to defend the honor of the 86 and prove once and for all that the 86 _was_ perfectly capable of beating a 32, regardless of what Kisumi thought.

Ikitani stood, frozen between the cars for a moment, shocked.

Kisumi rolled down his window, glaring at the teen. "Count us off you idiot!"

Iketani blinked stupidly for a moment, looking over at Takumi hesitantly. Takumi's gaze burned through his windshield, telling him that, under no uncertain terms, he was to _do it_ so he could put Kisumi in his place.

"Right!" he shouted, before he began. As soon as the last number was said and his hand was waved, both cars roared off in a cloud of smoke and burning rubber.

Iketani looked after Hakumi worriedly, hearing the familiar screech of tires of asphalt as they took the first corner at near full-speed.

 _Be careful, Takumi._ He thought worriedly. _That guy doesn't look like he's joking around._


	2. The Race- Blood and Gasoline

**Hope I managed to get everything appropriately in character here. It's weird- when I'm writing the dialogue, I can _hear_ them saying it. It gives me some hope that I'm writing this well and as canon-like as possible. Please review!**

* * *

Kisumi stole the lead at first, ahead of Takumi by a car length or so. Still, Takumi forced the gas pedal down a bit further, pushing his limits and crawling forward, making up the distance in the first corner drift until he was riding Kisumi's bumper.

Kisumi's eyes flashed in his rear view mirror for a second, before he was tearing down the straight away in an attempt to leave Takumi in the dust. The warning bell of high-speed going off, Takumi bore down, pushing the gas pedal as far as he dared. At the second corner he moved the wheel, sliding the wheels of his car into the gutter and turning, catapulting himself through the gap to pass Kisumi, barely scraping through the gap between their cars. The mirrors of the 32 and 86 nearly touched.

In his rear-view mirror, Takumi caught a glimpse of Kisumi's shocked expression before he pulled out of the drift, jamming down on the accelerator, desperate to keep the lead.

He moved from side to side on the next few corners, being sure to make himself impassable, despite the fact that the 32 was faster on the straightaways.

On the last corner, Kisumi nudged him. Still, Takumi adjusted and kept the lead, grinning. _That may have worked for your brother, but I've learned. That won't work on me anymore._

* * *

Ryosuke and Keisuke stood apprehensively by the guardrails that marked the corner.

The screeching of tires and the roar of engines grew louder, as the 86 came barreling around the corner first in a perfect drift….

Kisumi took the corner straight, not going into a drift at all.

"Is he insane!?" Someone shouted.

"He's going to crash into the 86! Everyone, get back!" Ryosuke shouted, seeing what was going to happen before it did.

The front end of the 32 slammed into the 86- a flash of Takumi's surprised face showed in his rear view mirror before there was the screaming of metal on metal as the 86 was thrown into the guard rail, still being pushed along by the 32 mercilessly.

Takumi's head slammed into the driver's side window, the glass exploding into a spider-web of cracks. The jarring force of the sudden slowing threw him forward- his chest collided with the steering column, knocking the breath from him and causing colors to explode before his eyes. He tasted blood and sweat for a split second, before instinct took over.

He didn't know what he was doing, but he slammed on the accelerator and wrenched the wheel to the left- right into where Kisumi's car was slamming into him.

Kisumi hadn't prepared for such a brash move, and the sudden shift of power and Takumi's car pushing him sent him careening off the 86- both cars went into tailspins, with Kisumi spinning out of sight, around the corner, as Takumi spun once, twice, the rear of the car slamming into the guardrail on the opposite side of the road and the 86 coming to a jarring halt.

Takumi was left sitting in his seat, gasping painfully for breath.

All the spectators were dead silent for a moment, and Keisuke was the first one to vault the dented guard rail, hurrying towards the 86.

"Don't just stand there- c'mon! He could be hurt!"

Takumi leaned against the cracked window, cheek to the glass, panting. His chest ached, his vision was blurred, and he could taste blood.

In the distance, he could see Kisumi's car, brake-lights on, slammed into a guard rail. The brake lights turned on, the red glow taking over his field of vision, before the car was peeling away from the guard rail, limping away from the corner, gas dripping from beneath the car as he revved the accelerator once, seeing his car was still capable, before taking off at a fair speed down the hill, towards the five hairpin turns.

Takumi blinked once, rapidly trying to clear his blurry vision and catch him breath. It hurt to breathe- he'd been thrown around like a rag doll- but none of it mattered. He couldn't feel the pain.

Keisuke Takahashi was tapping on the passenger side window, staring into the car, concerned. "Takumi! Are you okay!?"

Takumi wiped at his face, not even noticing his hand came back slick with blood, as he tightened his grip on the steering wheel. _I… I won't lose… to a cheater like you…._

Keisuke saw Takumi's bloodied hand go for the gear shift and jumped back at the last moment as Takumi slammed into gear, pulling off the guard rail and charging forward, into the hairpins with as much speed he could generate.

Keisuke found himself being pulled out of the road by Ryosuke. "C'mon." was all he said, dragging his brother back into the sea of stunned spectators.

In the distance, the muffled screaming of engines could be heard. "H-he's gonna finish the race? He's insane!" Keisuke sounded shocked.

Ryosuke placed a hand on his brother's shoulder. "It means a lot to him, you can tell."

"Yeah, but he's hurt! There was blood all over his face, his car got thrown around a ton, he has to be hurt!"

Ryosuke shrugged. "With a driver as passionate as him, I doubt he's even noticed. Let's just hope he's in good enough condition to make it through the course."

* * *

Takumi slammed into the first hairpin, barely feathering the break. Instead, he threw himself into turn, hardly touching the break and accelerating sooner than he should've to break out of the drift. He needed all the speed he could get if he was going to overtake the 32.

By the third hairpin, he was riding Kisumi's bumper. Kisumi looked frazzled as Takumi headed towards the inside. He jerked the wheel, over compensating, and as they headed into the fourth hairpin, Takumi went into his drift flawlessly, before abruptly turning the wheel, sliding into a flawless-reverse drift, headed towards the outside.

Before Kisumi could compensate, Takumi had slid through the gap between the 32 and the guard rail, pulling out of his drift early and slamming the gas pedal to the floor, taking the fourth hairpin at an insane speed, hooking his wheels into the gutter and slamming on the accelerator, slamming into the guard-rail to catapult himself further.

Sweat dripped down his face- he just had to stay ahead in the last hairpin.

Kisumi struggled to keep pace, and took the curve as well, instead slamming into the guard rail.

"Hm." Takumi smiled slightly. _I can't say you don't deserve it._

He blew through the finish line, smiling to himself before flicking on the radio and heading for home. It was just another day on the mount akina.

He smiled to himself, pausing and biting back a wince when his chest ached. When had that happened? Oh, right, when Kisumi had decided to slam his car into the guard rail and scrape him along it.

Takumi winced slightly. The 86 was probably horribly scratched on its side from being run along the guard rail, not to mention the rear end was probably smashed to hell. His father would be pissed. He could probably fix most of it at the gas station- he could do a decent job painting over the scratches, as well as smoothing out the dents and maybe replacing the fender. It would cost him some cash, chipping into the money he'd been saving for a car, but it was far better than having his old man yell at him.

Not to mention- he owed it to the 86. She'd done well for him in the race, and he'd reciprocate by fixing her properly. Still, he found it hard to keep his eyes open as he was driving, and he pulled over once, surprised that it took him a moment to clear the fog from his head.

 _Ugh… I've never felt like this after a race before. W-what's wrong with me?"_

He felt unbelievably tired- sick, even.

Still, after a few deep breaths, he found himself feeling slightly better, and he pulled back onto the road and continued to head towards home.


	3. Taking Care

Bunta smiled around his cigarette as he heard the 86 pull into the drive way. His boy was home.

He waited one minute, two, before frowning. He'd expected Takumi to come in by now. Unless the boy was putting it off. Had he lost? Was he trying to avoid telling his father?

The car door shut a moment later, though, and Bunta heard his son's feet scraping… unusually slow- on the sidewalk.

Ah- so the boy had lost, then. It was surprising, but it had to happen at some point, Bunta assumed. He set aside his newspaper, pouring himself a shot from the bottle beside him. He didn't intend to have Takumi say much- instead, the boy would probably just go up to his room quietly to think about the race.

Bunta started when there was a crash from the kitchen, jumping to his feet and rushing through the doorway to find Takumi on the floor.

"Eh? Takumi?"

His son looked up at him, and Bunta's breath hitched. His son's face was smeared with blood, eyes glassy and confused.

"H-hey Dad." Takumi staggered to his feet, swaying unsteadily.

Takumi stumbled forward, and would've fallen had Bunta not caught him, pulling his son into a hug-like position before slinging his son's arm over his shoulder, helping the boy stumble forward and into the living room.

"You get into a fight?" Bunta asked, uncertain. Brawls on the street racing scene weren't unheard of, but it was hard to imagine Takumi being able to drive home in this state.

"N-no." Takumi blinked furiously, as though trying to clear his head. "Dad- I don't feel so good."

"No shit, son, I'm half ready to drag your ass to a hospital." Takumi was normally a spacy kid, but he was acting entirely out of character.

"What? N-no, I'll be fine, s' just I got a lil' banged up is all…."

"You can barely stand." Bunta willed them onwards- it was a painfully slow pace, especially in negotiating the stairs. Takumi couldn't seem to coordinate his movements very well, and he half-dragged the boy up the last few stairs, pulling him into his room and depositing him on the bed as gently as he could, considering his son was mostly dead weight.

Bunta ducked into the bathroom, wetting a washcloth and moving back into the room hurriedly, to find Takumi trying to get up.

"Stay down, son." Bunta said curtly, struggling to wipe the dried blood from his face. Takumi blinked stupidly, before nearly succeeding in sitting up, and Bunta placed a hand on his chest, pushing him back down….

He was completely unprepared for the sound Takumi made- something between a whimper and a shout of pain escaped his son's lips, and Takumi was left gasping on the bed, tears pooling at the corners of his eyes.

Bunta's eyes widened. _Damn, your chest too?_ "What happened to you?" Bunta asked, voice losing most of its edge. Takumi didn't answer, simply lying still on the bed, breathing raggedly.

Bunta hesitantly grabbed his son's baggy t-shirt, despite the raspy protests from Takumi, and managed to get it over the boy's head.

He swallowed when he saw the bruising- mottled purple and blue, nearly black hues were appearing on the boy's ribs, and Bunta had a sneaking feeling he knew what'd happened to his boy.

"You crashed." It wasn't a question- it was a statement. Rising dread filled him- it all made sense. Takumi's hesitance to get out of the car, his off demeanor… the kid had crashed the car, and he was banged up. Hurting pretty badly, if not seriously injured….

"I won. I… 'm sorry about the car. I'll fix her… I promise…."

"Damn the car, what happened to you!?" Bunta demanded, weaving his fingers into the hair above his forehead, blinking worriedly.

"I-I'm fine. Just tired, is all…."

Bunta frowned, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You're beat to hell, son. Don't you even realize it?"

Takumi blinked stupidly. "I-I don't remember it happening…."

 _Damn kid didn't even notice. Probably got lost in the thrill of the race…._

"Stop talking and just lay still." Bunta said, sighing. It was clear that Takumi wasn't going to be able to give him any insight on what'd happened tonight, and he leaned forward, roughly scrubbing the dried blood from the boy's face.

Takumi blinked dumbly, batting weakly at his father's hand. "Stop, Dad- jus' lemme sleep…."

Bunta sighed, but relented, pulling back. Takumi was pale, save for some bruising above his right eye and a few small cuts on his face, as well as a split lip. They'd talk in the morning, and possibly see about taking Takumi to a doctor, if his injuries got any worse.

The man sighed, looking down at his son in exasperation before switching off the lights and heading down the hall.

 _What the hell happened to him?_ Bunta thought, worried. He had a feeling that looking at the 86 would give him a better feeling as to what'd happened to his son, and he found himself in the drive way, inspecting the 86 he'd trusted with his boy's life for the past 5 years.

The left side of the car was scratched to hell, as though it'd been slammed carelessly into a guard rail. The front window of the left side was broken as well, and the rear end was smashed to hell. Bunta paused, breath catching in his throat at the sight.

 _Takumi's too good a driver to crash into a guard rail, unless… someone pushed him into it. No, more like crashed into him, forced him into it._ Sure enough, there were corresponding dents on the doors of the right side of the car. Bunta's fists clenched, and he felt his blood start to boil.

 _That idiot racer could've killed them both! Who does he think he is, risking my boy on a kamikaze move like that! Takumi must've gotten away, though- the front end would've been smashed to hell if he'd let the guy force him into a crash. And if he had… he'd have been hurt much worse than he is._

Bunta frowned at the thought, paling at the realization. _Takumi must've gone evasive and steered into his attacker, throwing them off and allowing him to get free. He must've spun out and slammed the rear into a guard rail, as well. Damn- that boy was in one hell of a race._ Bunta sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. He was more than a little worried at the sight of the car, and what it meant his boy had done. It was a testament to Takumi's skill that he'd gotten out with the injuries he had. He could've been hurt far worse- even killed.

As it was, his son would be sore as hell in the morning. What was that his son had said? Something about fixing the car?

Bunta smirked slightly as he made his way upstairs a few minutes later, finding his son's overwhelming concern for the car amusing. _You're my son, alright._ He thought to himself.

Still, he found himself pausing and peering in on his son. In the few minutes he'd gone, Takumi had fallen asleep, allowing him to get a better look at the boy.

He brushed Takumi's bangs from his eyes, already seeing the bruising along his left temple, along with the split lip. He must've hit his head on the window pretty hand in order to cause that.

Still, it was the bruising on his chest that worried Bunta the most- it was mottled and painful looking, marring the boy's chest. He watched for a moment to make sure his boy was breathing regularly and without issue before sighing, turning and leaving the room.

Takumi would probably be fine, he mused. Though he'd probably be in pain tomorrow morning, and might need to see a doctor.

 _I'll do the morning tofu run for him. He needs the rest._ Bunta decided, unconsciously running a hand through his bangs. He sighed, wincing internally at the pinched expression on his son's face as he slept. He'd been in a crash or two back in the day, but he'd never been as beat up as Takumi was now. He felt guilty and worried for his son's health. But he had to trust in Takumi's skill as a driver- after all, it'd saved him from more serious injury tonight. Still, as a father, he couldn't help but worry. _You're making me go gray before my time, kid._

He headed towards the doorway, pausing for a brief moment to take one look at Takumi. _Sleep well, son._

* * *

Takumi woke up at six in the morning, wondering why he ached so badly as he peered over idly at the clock beside his bed, feeling as though he were forgetting something.

The morning tofu run! He was two hours late!

He stood, stumbling out of bed and nearly collapsing- every inch of him ached, and he frowned, barely catching himself and gasping for breath as his chest ached.

He frowned, looking surprised to see how bruised he was. Still, he fumbled to pull on a shirt, breath hitching as his chest protested with a burst of sharp pain. Still, he managed to dress himself as staggered downstairs, leaning heavily on the wall and gasping as he stumbled into the wall.

"Dad- then morning tofu delivery…. I overslept, I'm sorry…."

Bunta looked up from his newspaper, surprised. "I did the delivery this morning."

"You… huh?" Takumi frowned, looking confused.

Bunta shrugged noncommittally. "you looked like you needed the rest. How're you feeling, by the way?"

Takumi paused. "What do you mean by that?" he asked, confused.

Bunta frowned. "So you don't remember. You could barely stand when you got home last night. I had to help you to your room. Those bruises on your chest, there was blood all over your face- you must be sore as hell. You need to go see a doctor?"

Takumi frowned, looking down at his chest. _Ah, that explained it. I got hurt yesterday- it probably happened when I crashed…._ He rubbed his chest gingerly.

 _Wait… last night… Kisumi… the crash… the 86!_

Bunta watched all the color drain from his son's face within the span of two seconds and frowned, forgetting the morning paper as he hurried to his feet. "Takumi?" the boy looked as though he was going to faint.

"The 86!" Takumi was stumbling forward, eyes wide with fear. "Is she alright!? He forced me to crash into the guard rail and I steering back- I spun out, hit the other guard rail- dammit, how badly is she damaged!?" Takumi staggered towards the door, surprised when Bunta caught ahold of his arm.

"Hey. Easy there, son- the 86 is alright. Some badly scratched paint, a cracked window, some dents, and a busted up rear, but it's all cosmetic- she's fine."

Takumi sank to the floor, head in his hands. He let out a heavy breath, sighing in relief. "Thank god. I was afraid she was worse off than I remembered…."

 _That car sure does mean a lot to you son, doesn't it?_ Bunta thought, surprised and slightly pleased that his son appreciated the 86 like he did. "The 86 is fine. But you still didn't answer my question, kid. You wanna see a doctor? You're pretty banged up, I wouldn't hold it against you if you did… hell, I'd even drive you…."

Takumi shook his head, getting to his feet. "No, I'm fine, but thanks. I mean… it hurts, sure- but I'll be alright in a few days. Besides, I need to check on the 86…."

"Checking on it is all you'll do, Takumi. You're not to touch that car, fixing it or otherwise, until you're well enough to do tofu deliveries." It was Bunta's way of making sure Takumi took the time he needed to rest, while helping him keep his priorities straight. Not to mention, Takumi's alarm clock might just malfunction for the next day or so and not go off, that way the boy didn't push himself into delivering again just so he could work on his beloved 86.

Racer or not, he was still the boy's father, and he'd make sure Takumi took care of his body before the car anyway. His health was far more important than any race.

Takumi slowly made his way outside, trying not to wince with Bunta present. Only after he was outside did he gingerly rub his chest, letting out a harsh breath. He would be very sore for the next couple of days.

Still, his worry for the 86 outweighed his own discomfort, and he trudged over to the car anxiously- the left side was scratched to hell- one window cracked, some minor dents on the right side, and the rear end was smashed to hell.

"It's all cosmetic. I can fix this up without much of a problem." Takumi spoke aloud to himself, sighing with relief, resting a hand on the hood of the 86 affectionately. 'thank you. You performed well for me last night." He smiled- the 86 was more like an old friend than a car, and he stroked the hood lovingly for a moment before he was pulling away, moving painfully slow over the ground until he made his way back inside.

"Satisfied?" Bunta spoke around his cigarette, looking up from his paper as Takumi came back into the house. Takumi nodded, leaning against the wall. "Yeah. It's all cosmetic. I can fix it…."

"Hm." Bunta nodded, agreeing with his son's assessment. "So- what are you going to do now?"

"I… I think I'll head back up to bed, actually. I'm kinda tired."

Bunta nodded- he thought that was a good decision.

Regardless of Takumi's need for racing and his fanatical attitude for the car, he was still a kid. And Bunta would look after him for as long as he needed to.


End file.
